


long live the king

by xuxisquish



Series: long live the king [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassin Donghyuck, Boys In Love, Daddy Issues, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Lots of Crying, M/M, Prince Mark, Sad Ending, Serious Injuries, a bit of blood, donghyuck nearly dies, how do you tag, like one time, mark is a writer, so be careful, wheein from mamamoo is there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuxisquish/pseuds/xuxisquish
Summary: in which renowned assassin donghyuck lee has to take out the king’s son when he’s sent away for his safety. but prince mark lee has a sweet smile and likes reading and has the softest eyes and donghyuck cannot, for the life of him, resist that boy.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: long live the king [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807501
Comments: 20
Kudos: 114





	long live the king

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first fic, so i hope you guys like it. firstly, i owe a big, big thank you to tee for betaing this, ily! i do not want to say too much here haha, enjoy!

Someone was going to die tonight.

Not just  _ someone _ , Donghyuck thought as he silently made his way between the trees under the cover of darkness, but the second son of the nation’s king: Mark Lee. 

Now, it was well-known by everyone that said prince wasn’t exactly his father’s favourite, but it didn’t seem like the boy minded. He rarely showed up at royal events, didn’t like parades and balls and audiences, and rumour went around that he preferred reading alone in his room.

So it wasn’t really a big surprise when the king decided to send Prince Mark away to a small mansion in the countryside, where he was supposed to live with only his grandmother, a few guards, and staff. 

And now, Donghuck stood in front of the large, rustic building, jaw clenched and knife in hand.

He was there only because he’d get paid extremely well, and, even though he was used to this job and often got high-ranking targets to take care of… This was something else. Something way more than a few loaded councilmen. He’d prepared cautiously for a few weeks now, living in a small inn at a town nearby, scouting around the house, noting the usual shifts of the few guards surrounding the place, learning by heart the layout of the different floors. He was nothing short of ready. 

He shot a look at his watch, the glass glinting under the moonlight. It was time.

Slow, lazy footsteps sounded, and a few seconds later a guard turned the corner, looking at his feet, trailing his hand on the wooden wall of the house, doing quite a poor job with the last scouting shift of the night. 

Once he was out of sight, Donghyuck, started moving. He had lots of time ahead of him, but he wanted this to be done as quickly as possible, so he crossed the path between the forest and the building in a few quick strides, staying out of sight from the windows lining the second floor. 

He looked up, eyeing the windowsill where he had to get in, at least ten feet over the ground. The prince’s bedroom. 

He took a deep breath, stuffed his knife in his boot, and started climbing.

There was almost nothing to grab onto, aside from a few cracks and bumps in the wall, and rare places where the wood was rotten enough to scrape out quickly, but Donghyuck reached upwards and slid his gloved fingers in impossible spaces, bracing his feet on the wall, and pulling himself up.

They called him the Spider, because he could climb almost any surface. He grunted lightly as he used only the tips of his fingers and pushed on his toes to move higher up. To anyone looking, it would’ve seemed like he was sticking to nothing but the bare wall. 

After a few seconds of scanning the wood above him, he reached into his belt and pulled out a small hook, before silently but strongly inserting it between two planks. With that and his foot inside a larger crevice, he managed to be high enough to reach the windowsill. Now that he had hold of it, it would be a piece of cake. He placed both his hands on the windowsill above him and pulled, barely using his feet, delighting in the strength and steadiness he felt in his arms. 

In a few seconds, his chin was in front of the glass. Swinging his legs sideways and bringing his foot to the windowsill, he managed to pull himself up almost completely. It was wide enough for him to have one knee on it as he worked to unlock the window, one shoulder pressed against the glass and a leg dangling from the windowsill. 

He slid his trusty hook between the two panels of glass, and, hearing the satisfying click, pushed softly. As expected, the window opened, and the heavy curtains inside swished in the fresh autumn wind. Donghyuck stepped inside, turning around to close the window again. He didn’t want the next guard to pass seeing it open.

He didn’t hear anything behind him. The prince must’ve been asleep.

Slowly, he picked his knife from his boot, tightening his grip on its hilt, and readying himself for what he was going to do. He closed his eyes for a bit. Opened them. Turned around.

Then almost jumped out of his skin.

“Hello.”

There was a boy sitting on the bed, hair blond and messy, eyes bright behind his glasses even in the darkness of the night.

Donghyuck cocked his head, breath short, the wheels in his brain spinning. Did he get the wrong room? No. That wasn’t possible. There was no other boy living here than prince Mark. Which meant…

Donghyuck frowned. “What the hell?”

The boy hopped off his bed, rolling his eyes. He looked about Donghyuck’s age, though he knew the prince was one year older than him, which made him… twenty. 

He walked towards Donghyuck, casually, not even looking at the knife in his hand. He didn’t have an ounce of fear in his eyes. He stopped when he was about three feet away and crossed his arms, looking bored.

“So, you’re here to kill me?”

The assassin blinked. “No… I mean- yeah?” 

Prince Mark sighed, but there was no sadness, no regret on his face. Was he crazy? Donghyuck started again, “Are you not… scared?”

“Well, I was, the first time. After a while, you get used to it.”

This boy wasn’t making any sense. “What do you mean, the first time?”

“I mean the first time someone came to murder me.”

Donghyuck really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This happens often?”

The prince nodded. “Oh, yeah. It was entertaining, at first, but it got really boring after a while. Would you mind getting it over with?” 

The other paused, processing what the boy in front of him had just said. “What, for real? You’ll let me do it? Just like that?”

He shrugged. “Of course.”

Frowning a bit in disbelief, Donghyuck took a hesitant step closer. Was it really going to be that easy? The prince uncrossed his arms and puffed his chest, like he was ready to get stabbed.

“Okay,” Donghyuck whispered, and raised his knife slowly. 

The prince closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

“Wait,” Donghyuck said, stuttering a bit.

“ _ What _ ?” prince Mark asked impatiently.

“Don’t you want to… you know, sit? Or lay down?” The assassin didn’t know what he was saying, but it was too late to back down. 

The royal furrowed his brows. “Uh, sure.”

He wordlessly hopped onto his mattress and flopped onto his back. “Okay, now do it!” 

His eyelids were closed again, and Donghyuck hesitated before stalking closer, now hovering over his relaxed face, blade in hand. He exhaled heavily, gripping the pommel so tight that his knuckles were white. He could do this.

He raised the knife above the prince’s chest, ready to strike. And he was about to do it. He really was.

But then his eyes fell on the prince’s face and, he just looked so angelic, so  _ peaceful _ —

He dropped to his knees, the weapon clattering on the floor in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, pressing his forehead into the side of the bed, eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

He felt a hand pat his head softly, and he looked up to see the prince staring at him from above, his face shadowed by some sadness he couldn’t recognize. He realized he was shaking.

“It’s fine,” Mark whispered. “You’re fine.”

Donghyuck had no idea why he felt like tearing up, and the gentleness of Mark’s fingers in his hair didn’t help. 

He huffed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you comforting me? I was holding a knife to your chest a few seconds ago.”

The prince smiled sadly. “Sometimes the people with the weapon in hand are the ones that need to be taken care of.”

And for some reason, those words alone made something crack deep in Donghyuck’s chest, like he was being split open from the inside. 

“Hey.” Mark softly tugged at the shoulders of his black shirt, pulling him up. “Don’t cry.”

The assassin realized there was a tear rolling down his cheek and he angrily wiped it away as he stood up. He watched the prince scoot to the other side of the bed, then pat the spot beside him. “Lay down with me?”

He chewed on his lip before nodding slowly and sliding onto the mattress, next to Mark, not touching him, but close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from him. 

“What’s your name?” the older boy asked, and the other hesitated a bit.

“I’m Donghyuck.”

Mark smiled at him, brightly, and there was something so warm and inviting about it that the assassin didn’t even regret giving him his name. 

“Nice to meet you, Donghyuck,” the prince smiled. “I’m Mark—”

“I knew that,” the other couldn’t help but cut in.

“—but it’s ‘your Highness’ to you,” Mark finished, glaring at him. Donghyuck wasn’t sure quite how serious he was being but something about the way the boy’s eyes glinted in the pale moonlight made him feel way more at ease than he’d care to admit. 

“Okay, your Highness. Do you want to explain to me why you were so eager to die?”

He shrugged and rolled back on his back, staring at the ceiling. “You know, it’s not hard to be like that when you have absolutely nothing to live for, except being permanently in the shadow of someone.”

“Your brother?” Donghyuck asked softly, eyeing him.

He nodded slowly. “My brother. My father. Every other person in the palace. I don’t belong there. I’m not like them and they don’t care about me because of it. That’s far from bothering me, though. I’m better off on my own.”

“Why don’t you leave, then?”

“I really wish I could. They won’t let me. I’m trapped.” A sigh. “Instead of leaving me be, they insist on keeping me with them. Hidden.” He made a large movement with his hand, showing the room he was in. “They don’t want the people to know there’s a failure in the royal family.” 

“You’re not a failure,” Donghyuck said quietly, unsure why he even cared about the his feelings.

“But I am. I have no interest whatsoever in politics, or palace life, or social gatherings, and I’m not  _ made  _ for saying hi and waving and sitting straight to look good in front of complete strangers when all I want to do is go outside and meet genuine people.”

The other boy stayed silent for a bit, and the prince breathed out harshly. “Oh, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you like that. You can leave if you want to. Or stab me. Whichever you feel like doing.”

“I think we’ve established that I’m unfortunately unable to stab you tonight,” Donghyuck admitted. “And don’t apologize for that! I was just thinking about what you’re saying because I understand. I really do. And I know it’s tough.” He sighed. “You don’t deserve that, Mark.”

The prince smiled a bit, still looking at the ceiling. “Well it’s comforting to know that someone thinks that.”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“Thank you.”

They fell silent for a bit, the sound of their soothed breathing filling up the room. 

“So what do you do in life?” Mark suddenly asked, and Donghyuck was caught off-guard for a second. “Aside from killing people, of course.”

He blushed in embarrassment at that, but shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t do much.”

“You don’t have friends?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, well, my job doesn’t really make me someone very approachable.”

“Oh, that’s kind of true. What about your family, then? Do they support what you do?”

“My parents died when I was six,” the assassin said, and Mark immediately regretted asking.

“Oh. Oh, no, I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to…”

Donghyuck stopped him before he could finish what would undeniably have been a very long and very apologetic sentence. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. I don’t even remember their faces, so it’s not something I’m really sensitive about.”

“Oh.” 

There was again a beat of silence.

“But, now that I thought about it,” the older boy started again, “aside from murder, I guess I like swimming.”

“Really? I’ve never been swimming.”

Donghyuck’s eyes went wide and he turned to the prince. “Oh, that’s terrible! Swimming is great. It feels like you’re floating. I’ll have to take you one day!”

The implication that maybe this — whatever it was — would last long enough for them to go swimming together made them both laugh nervously, but Mark quickly changed the subject.

“Anything else?”

“Uh…” Donghyuck trailed off. “I guess… I guess I sing okay.”

The prince gasped. “Sing for me?” 

Donghyuck turned toward him, and was faced with a pouting Mark, eyes pleading. 

He sighed, hoping the boy didn’t notice his cheeks turning pink in the darkness. “I’ll sing for you before I stab you.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Fine. Deal. But that means you’ll have to man up and actually kill me because I really want to hear your voice!” 

“Man up?” The assassin pouted. “I’m offended.”

The royal grinned. “Oops.”

“And what about you?” Donhyuck suddenly asked, and Mark looked at him with questioning eyes. “I mean. There must be something you like doing when you’re not constricted by the pressure of your role?” 

Mark chuckled. “I love books.”

“What kind of books?”

He shrugged. “Any kind. Anything that’s letters on paper interests me.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. “Even those boring, thousand-pages long autobiographies?”

Mark’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “Oh, yeah! Especially those, actually. I love being able to read about other people’s lives. It’s captivating.”

“You’re captivating,” the assassin mumbled without thinking, and he could’ve sworn Mark’s cheeks reddened, even in the ambient darkness.

“What?”

Donghyuck turned to the ceiling, bringing his hands behind his head and intertwining his fingers, smirking a little. “Nothing.”

“Oh.” Mark seemed a little out of breath, and the other boy couldn’t say he wasn’t a bit proud he’d made a prince flustered. “Well, um, I mean. Yeah, books are great. I mean, I’m not allowed to have too many of them but I hide them under my bed and… Oh my, I’m rambling. Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “It’s fine. It’s cute.”

Mark choked on his own saliva, eyes wide. “I like playing flute too!” he blurted, louder than necessary, trying to ignore completely what the other had just said.

The obvious change in subject made the assassin let out a cackle. This boy was the funniest thing. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, um,” he breathed out sharply through his nose. “I mean, my repertoire isn’t very developed, you know…”

“That’s okay,” Donghyuck told him, but the way the prince shook his head made him think there might be something more behind it. “Why do you say that?”

“I won’t tell you,” Mark snorted.

“Please?” 

The younger turned a pouting face to the other, who visibly gulped. “Fine.”

He took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. “I can’t read music.”

Donghyuck let out a bright laugh. “That’s adorable, what the hell? You’re so cute.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Stop saying I’m cute. I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.” 

“So?” Donghyuck teased. “That won’t stop me from saying you’re cute.” 

The royal gasped, reaching out to lightly punch Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Now you have tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“A shortcoming. It’s not fair that you know I can’t read music but I don’t know anything about you, don’t you think?” Mark mused.

“Well, I would, but I sadly can’t because I am perfection,” Donghyuck drawled, which earned him another playful jab on the shoulder.

“Come on.”

“Okay, fine. I love stories, but I can’t read.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious right now? Why didn’t you tell me when we were talking about books?”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Donghyuck mumbled. “And it’s embarrassing.”

“No, don’t be embarrassed!” He smiled. “It’s not something bad or anything. Plus, I could read to you if you really like stories that much.”

Donghyuck’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that. “Really? Oh, no, wait, I don’t want to ask too much from you… You don’t have to do th—”

“Donghyuck.”

His name on Mark’s lips made him freeze. “Yeah?”

“I’d be glad to read something to you.”

A grin stretched the assassin’s mouth as he let out a small exclamation of joy. 

At that, a sigh escaped Mark’s mouth. “How can you keep saying  _ I’m _ cute when you act like  _ this _ ? Anyways,, I’ll go get a book, you get comfortable.”

So Donghyuck did, nestling between the fluffy pillows, trying really hard not to grin like an idiot. He loved stories, he really did, but he never had anyone to read them to him… The last time someone had read anything to him was probably by his mom, before she died. That was one of the few memories he had of her. He didn’t remember what she looked like, but sometimes he had flashes of her smooth voice, her delicate fingers turning pages in the candlelight.

“So, I have this,” Mark said, plopping down on the bed, and showing him a bunch of papers with dark, messy scribbles on it and no visible spine. It seemed like quite a strange book, since it didn’t even have a cover, but Donghyuck didn’t question it.

“What’s the title?”

Mark laughed nervously, lighting a candle to be able to see. “Uh, I don’t remember?” 

At that, the auburn-haired boy raised an eyebrow. Okay, then.

“Anyways.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’ll start, I guess.” 

Donghyuck only stared at him silently. And he started reading.

It was a beautiful story. It spoke of a boy who was lost and couldn’t find his way back, but, on his way, found something worthwhile that made him realize maybe home wasn’t the place he was meant to be. It spoke of how sometimes you lose your bearings only because your bearings aren’t at the right spot in the beginning. It spoke of beautiful things and sad things and one time Donghyuck had to blink a few times because his eyes had started watering. 

But the story wasn’t the only thing. Mark had a gorgeous voice. 

The little lilt in his words, the way he said phrases so smoothly, like running water in a stream. There was just something so relaxing about the way the prince talked, and Donghyuck thought he wanted to hear him speak forever. 

“The forest was full of sounds,” Mark continued, “and, uh…”

“What?” Donghyuck asked when he paused, his ears reddening. “What is it?”

“Uh, that’s it.” Mark pushed his glasses back on his nose with a trembling hand. “It stops here.”

“What do you mean, it stops here? You bought an unfinished book?”

The prince’s face turned dark red. “I didn’t buy it,” he mumbled.

Donghyuck’s face was nothing but confusion, so Mark coughed and whispered, “I wrote it.”

At that, his eyes went wide. “You  _ did _ ?” 

The prince nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

“It was really beautiful.”

“You think?” Mark’s eyes were so innocent and so soft that Donghyuck could’ve melted.

“I really do. You’re so talented, Mark.”

He smiled sadly. “My talent is sort of useless, though. I won’t be able to publish anything. Imagine having a writer in the royal family. A  _ travesty _ .”

“Mark…” Donghyuck didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do to ease the pain in the prince’s eyes, erase all the broken dreams he could see in there. 

When the words didn’t come out and Mark looked at him with a saddened, somewhat expecting face, the assassin did the only thing he could think of to comfort him. He reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

Mark chuckled, a blush high on his cheeks, visible even in the weak light provided by the candle. “For what?” 

“I’m sorry that someone with so much talent and so much potential has to waste away in here, wishing they’d get  _ murdered  _ because that’s how much their life closed doors on them. I’m sorry that you’re so sad because of all those dreams you have because you’re lucky enough to  _ have  _ them, and it’s cruel that you can’t follow them because of where… because of  _ who  _ you were born.” 

Mark’s eyes filled up with tears. “You know, this might sound so very stupid,” he started, his voice cracking, “but no one’s ever understood me like that. No one’s ever listened.”

He squeezed Donghyuck’s fingers. “Thank you so much for being here, Hyuck.”

And the nickname,  _ damn,  _ that nickname on the prince’s pretty lips did something to him which Donghyuck couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried. “Anytime,” he told him, smiling warmly.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, holding hands and staring at the ceiling until the candle flickering next to the bed died out. 

When Donghyuck remembered what time it was, he almost jerked upwards in panic, but shot a look at Mark and noticed he’d dozed off, breathing peacefully. 

Even though he would’ve rather stayed there for the whole night, he couldn’t. Slowly, he untangled his fingers from the prince, his skin feeling cold as soon as it hit the night air. He heaved a sigh as he put a fluffy blanket over the sleeping prince before making his way to the window. With a last glum look over his shoulder, he took in Mark’s furrowed brows, his ruffled light hair, and his slightly open mouth, before opening the window and slipping out of the room, nothing but a shadow in the night.

͟͟͞͞➳

The next night, Donghyuck was surprised to find Mark’s window open when he came by. Maybe tonight, he thought. Maybe tonight he would man up and manage to do his job. He slipped in silently and gave the prince sitting on his bed a grin. “Hello.”

Mark tilted his head, a sparkle playing in his irises. Fuck,  _ how  _ could it be so dark and that boy still had the stars in his eyes? 

“Hi,” he chirped. “Are you going to kill me tonight, then?”

Donghyuck shrugged, taking a step closer. “I’ll try,” he said, but he knew his resolve had crumbled the second he’d crossed the prince’s eyes.

Mark patted the spot next to him and the assassin almost ran to him, flinging himself on the mattress, letting out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

Donghyuck looked sideways, meeting his stare. “I don’t know. I’ve had a rough day, that’s all.”

Mark nodded empathetically, watching the other boy carefully, and Donghyuck was about to ask what he was staring at when he opened his mouth, “What colour are your eyes?”

It seemed like he hadn’t really meant to let that slip because he blushed right after. 

The assassin smiled, winking. “I don’t know, do you want to come closer and tell me?”

He thought it was cute how the prince’s face was dusted in red and he shook his head nervously.

“Su— I mean,” he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Stop flirting!” 

“Fine,” Donghyuck said, but Mark didn’t believe he’d stop, especially after he received a playful look under a raised brow. He wasn’t sure he  _ wanted  _ him to stop.

“Well, if you have to know,” the assassin declared, “my eyes are a boring brown.”

Mark leaned forwards, legs crossed, his hands on his knees, mouth slightly agape as he gazed deep into Donghyuck’s eyes. The other boy wanted nothing more than to close the space between them, but he pushed those impulses down, down, down, until they were nothing more than an ignorable, albeit annoying, tugging at his heart. 

The prince spoke up. “They’re most definitely not boring. I think your eyes are pretty.”

Donghyuck tried not to smile like an idiot, but failed. “You’re pretty.”

He didn’t have time to say another word before Mark chucked a pillow to his face. “Hey!”

“You asked for it.”

“True.” Donghyuck wrapped his arms around the pillow, bracing his chin on it. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Blue,” Mark said, shifting around a bit in his sitting position. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“So we’re asking each other questions?” Donghyuck asked, but backtracked when he saw Mark growing embarrassed. “I don’t mind it, though! I want to get to know you better.”

Without letting the prince time to blush, Donghyuck started again, “I like giraffes. Favourite foods?”

“Watermelon.” The prince’s response was so certain and assertive that the other couldn’t help but chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just cute.”

“What did I say about calling me cute?” Mark didn’t seem really offended, though. “It’s disappointing, though, I haven’t eaten watermelon in months because our trades with the Tropical Kingdom were severed when they went into civil war… I literally think about watermelon every day, it’s a bit sad.”

“You like watermelon that much?” 

“I do!” 

Donghyuck had to hold back the ‘cute’ he was about to mumble again. “Okay. It’s your turn, now.” 

Mark furrowed his brows, searching for a question. “It might sound silly and you might think I’m dumb for going this deep with those questions, but it’s been on my mind for a while… Do you think soulmates exist?”

The assassin was caught off-guard by the question and stayed silent for a bit to think about it. The other, however, took it in the wrong way and scratched his neck out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, forget I asked. What’s your—”

“I don’t like the idea of soulmates,” Donghyuck said carefully. “It’s so connotative to have your destiny already decided. I want to make my own choices. Meet the people I want to. Because  _ I  _ chose to do it, not because it was written in the stars, or whatnot. But at the same time, the idea of having someone that understands you and complements you perfectly is also beautiful, in a way, because… well, don’t we all need that? A special someone? So I guess I’m conflicted, because… I don’t want me having found the perfect match also meaning that my freedom is restricted. You know what I mean?” 

Mark pondered over the assassin’s words for a bit. “You’re actually so right. I’ve never thought about that before.” He smiled a bit. “That was beautiful, though.”

“Really?” Donghyuck smirked. “Maybe you’ll put my deep philosophical soulmate monologue in one of your books one day.”

The boy’s suggestion had been mainly a joke, but he was surprised when Mark hummed, like he was genuinely thinking about it. “Actually, I could. I wasn’t overstating anything when I said your words were beautiful.”

Donghyuck opened his mouth, but Mark shut him down, snapping, “I swear if you say I’m beautiful I’ll choke you with the pillow you’re holding.”

The younger boy laughed brightly. “No, I was going to say  _ I’ _ m beautiful.”

Mark scoffed, grinning. “Okay, we get it. It’s your turn for questions, by the way.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Well, since you hit me with something so complex last time… What do you think there is after death?”

Mark pondered for a bit. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. I feel like there’s  _ something _ , though. I’m certain you don’t just disintegrate into dust. But I wouldn’t go all the way and say there is reincarnation, either. I feel like when you die, you just… are. Like you exist, but not as you. Because you know, nothing is created and nothing is destroyed. We were made from something. So maybe after death, we return to that state. Where we… like, we just  _ are _ . Oh, I’m not making sense. Sorry.”

Mark shoved his palms between his thighs, head tilting downwards, and Donghyuck wanted nothing but to hold his hand.

“Don’t apologize! Everything you say is pretty valid, you know? It makes sense and I’m glad I’m able to understand it.”

The royal looked up, a grateful smile spreading over his face. “Thank you.”

“Your turn!” Donghyuck said after a beat of silence.

Mark pretended to think about it for a while, but he already knew what he wanted to ask anyways. “Can you sing for me?”

His voice was soft and sweet, and Donghyuck could’ve melted right then and there because of it. “Uh…”

“Please?” Mark pouted, stirring and pulling out a leg from under him so that he could poke the other’s hip with his foot. 

And as soon as the prince pulled out that expression, Donghyuck knew it was just a matter of seconds until he surrendered to his demands. Honestly, with that face, he could’ve asked the assassin for the moon and he would’ve tried to get it. 

“Okay, you win. I’ll sing for you.”

His heart did a strange thing when Mark grinned wide and pumped his fist in the air like he’d won something important.

“Ok, um…” Feeling an embarrassed blush creep up his neck, Donghyuck cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if you know this song or anything, so you might not like it, please don’t judge…”

“Donghyuck.”

“My voice is a bit unsteady because I’m tired—”

“Donghyuck.”

“If you don’t like it just tell me, I’ll—”

“Hyuck!”

His eyes fell on the slightly annoyed prince. “What?”

“It’ll be perfect, whatever you do. Don’t be nervous. I can assure you I won’t judge you. Ever.”

The assassin’s face softened. “Okay. Uh. Here goes.”

He started singing, and closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see Mark’s reaction to… whatever shitshow he was about to put out. 

It was a soft tune, a bit melancholic, and his quiet voice reverberated strangely in the silent room. It was a beautiful melody, full of minor chords and heart-clenching words. He’d known it since he was nothing but a child, and singing it now brought back memories, feelings. 

After a few verses, he got lost in the music, in the dance of the notes on his vocal chords, of the gentle lilt in his voice. He loved singing, because, after all that was happening, when he sang… it was only them. Him and the music. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the song slowly came towards its end, he hesitantly opened his eyes, and nearly messed up the last verse, stumbling on his words.

Mark was crying.

He’d tried to hide it when Donghyuck opened his eyes, but he’d been staring directly at him, tears dripping down his cheeks in silence, his face so full of raw  _ emotion  _ that Donghyuck damn near started tearing up as well. 

His voice a bit unsteady, his chest constricted, he pushed out the last notes of the song, keeping intense eye contact with the prince in front of him like he was holding on for dear life and letting go of Mark’s gaze would be the end of him.

When nothing but silence filled the room aside from Mark’s soft sniffles and Donghyuck’s shaky breathing, the older let out something that sounded like a broken sob, and the other’s heart nearly shattered right there in his chest.

“Donghyuck, your voice is so so stunning. It’s so beautiful,” Mark was rambling, his pitch a bit higher than usual, but his volume so low that Donghyuck had to listen carefully to hear him. “I know I’m an emotional mess because I’m so tired and all, but thank you… Thank you.”

Fresh tears came down the prince’s face, and Donghyuck’s heart clenched. 

Without a word, he scooted toward the older boy, and, softly, grabbed his ankles, pulling out his legs. Mark didn’t resist when he slowly pushed his shoulders down on the bed, laying him down. He didn’t protest, either when the assassin yanked out the cover from under him before tucking him in. 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, and Mark nodded lightly.

“S— sing me to sleep?” he whispered, his eyes full of hope, pulling out one of his hands from under the blanket.

Without hesitation, Donghyuck laced his fingers between his, holding his hand tightly. “Yes, of course,” he murmured, squeezing the prince’s hand.

And so he started singing again, a soft and light lullaby, watching as Mark’s star-filled eyes grew clouded with sleep, and until, finally he fell into a deep slumber.

When Donghyuck slipped his hand out of Mark’s now limp grasp, the cold hit him and he shivered. This scene was so familiar. Letting go of Mark. Getting back to reality. He didn’t want to go, but he had to. 

Slowly, he bent over the boy’s sleeping figure and placed his lips on his forehead, lightly, but meaningfully. “Good night,” he whispered.

And then he was gone.

͟͟͞͞➳

Something was wrong. 

Donghyuck knew it the second he stepped into the room the next night. 

Mark wasn’t in his bed.

For a split second, he thought he’d been caught and fear twisted his insides, but some light sniffling made its way to his ears, and he almost ran across the cold tiles, discarding the large bag he’d brought along.

Mark was on the other side of the huge room, on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs and back to the door, crying into his knees. 

He was crouching next to him in an instant, gently rubbing a hand against his shin. 

“Mark, Mark, hey… What’s going on?”

The prince didn’t answer, bringing up his hands to bury his face in it, muffling his sobs. 

Seeing him like this made Donghyuck feel… he couldn’t even explain it. It was like he was being torn from the inside, like his heart was being cut into tiny little pieces. And he wasn’t even the one who was hurting.

His hand trembling a bit, he passed his fingers through the boy’s already messy hair in a comforting touch. “Mark, please get up. I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to be all… like this… on the floor…”

The other boy shook his head forcefully, but Donghyuck’s fingers were still on his scalp, massaging gently.

“Baby, please get up…” the assassin almost choked on his own words, the pet name coming out so naturally that he didn’t realize he’d thought of it before it was out.

Mark didn’t seem to notice, but he did stir a bit, reaching out his arms, making grabby hands, like he… he wanted Donghyuck to carry him to bed. The boy almost melted into a puddle right there, even if it definitely wasn’t the moment, because, with how utterly fucking  _ adorable  _ Mark naturally was, how could he  _ not  _ call him baby?

Donghyuck sighed and slipped his arm behind the older boy, pulling him closer before hooking his other arm underneath his legs and picking him up bridal style. Mark’s immediate reaction was to shove his face, wet with tears, into Donghyuck’s shirt, his breath hot on his chest. Not that he minded, at all. The prince was a bit taller than than he was, but he looked so  _ small  _ and  _ fragile  _ right now, in his arms that Donghyuck felt like he couldn’t possibly hold him close enough.

He walked to the bed and tried putting him down as gently as he could, but he soon realized that Mark didn’t want to let go. And, yeah, okay, maybe  _ he _ didn’t want him to let go either. So he made his peace with it, and slipped them both under the covers. 

Mark wouldn’t stop crying, and he was facing Donghyuck, his face still buried in his chest as the assassin looped his arms around his waist and back, pulling him close. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Donghyuck whispered into his hair, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “Whenever you’re ready, you can tell me what’s happening.” 

At that, he just nodded into his shirt.

It took awhile for the prince’s sobs to calm, and he gently pushed on Donghyuck’s chest, telling him in a soft, cracked voice that he was ready to talk about it. 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, and the other boy felt himself ache at the sight of his sparkly eyes rimmed with red, swollen and tearstained. “First of all, I’m… uh, I’m so sorry for being like this, Hyuck…” 

Donghyuck just reached out and cupped his cheek with the palm of his hand. “Don’t apologize. It makes me sad that you think you don’t have a valid excuse for showing emotions. It’s  _ okay _ . And I’ll never judge you. So please don’t be sorry for being genuine.”

Mark smiled a bit, sniffling. “Okay, well, uh… My brother came to visit me today.” He visibly gulped. “You know, the actual heir to the throne and all.”

The assassin nodded, letting him continue,

“Well, we never got along especially well, but… this time, since I’ve been stuffed away in this place for a while already, I thought maybe… you know, we could put our differences aside and just… be brothers.” He wiped at his eyes. “Well, that didn’t turn out well, obviously.”

He tried to let out a sarcastic laugh but his voice cracked.

“He insulted me, belittled me. Told me it was my fault that I was different, that I stuck out like a sore thumb in the family, and that I was better off here, with no one seeing me so I couldn’t tarnish the family image.” 

He looked away, his eyes glossing over in tears again, and Donghyuck grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers, willing him strength.

“He said… he said I was worthless—” his voice broke, and a tear rolled down sideways from his face, into the pillow, soon followed by others. “I’m so sorry…”

The assassin gently clicked his tongue, squeezing the prince’s hand. “What did I say about apologizing?” 

“I’m so—” the boy cut himself off, not being able to repress a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Donghyuck grinned a bit, before his face became grave again. He sighed. “Markie. I don’t know your brother personally and I haven’t known  _ you  _ for long, but all I can say is that he must have his head stuck extremely far up his ass to not see how wonderfully talented and amazing you are.”

Mark hid his face in his hands, letting out an embarrassed whine. Donghyuck thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“Hey, look at me.” He placed his knuckle under the prince’s chin and lifted his head up so that their eyes could meet. “I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. You’re literally the sweetest person ever, and you’re so creative, like… have you seen your writing? And you’re so smart. I don’t always understand what you’re saying but I’d listen forever if it made you happy. Also, did I tell you you’re literally breathtaking and my lungs stop functioning when I’m around you?”

The prince had turned dark red by now, turning his face into the pillow.

“Also, uh,” Donghyuck cleared his throat. “It might not be a lot, but I hope it makes you feel better… I, uh, brought you something.”

At that, Mark’s head perked up, his puffy eyes now full of curiosity. “What? Really?” 

He didn’t even know what it was, but already seemed so excited by the simple fact that the assassin brought something that Donghyuck’s face split in a sweet, fond smile. 

“Wait a second.”

He pushed the covers away and hopped off the bed, the warmth leaching out of his body like a frigid gust of wind hit him. He shivered, padding over to where he’d discarded his bag before picking it up and skipping back to Mark’s bed.

It looked very odd, to say the least. It was just…  _ round _ . A bit larger than the size of a human head, and round like a ball.

Under Mark’s incredulous eyes, he took it out of the fabric and—

“A  _ watermelon _ ?” 

Donghyuck’s cheeks burned a bit. It looked so stupid now, and he was embarrassed by his own idea, regretting he’d opened his mouth about it.

“Um— sorry.”

But Mark turned his face to him, and, even if his cheeks were tear-stained and his hair was messy, he gave Donghyuck this  _ smile _ , so wide and full of happiness, his eyes full of stars again, for a simple fruit… It was a truly, truly stunning scene, and the assassin’s heart clenched at the sheer beauty of the boy in front of him.

“How did you—?” He wasn’t looking at Donghyuck anymore, all his attention focused on the melon in front of him. He reached out for it, and the assassin laughed when the prince cradled the fruit like a baby.

“I have my ways.”

“Can we eat it?” Mark was looking at him with those puppy eyes again, and Donghyuck would be damned if he’d said no.

“Now?”

“Yeah!” was the enthusiastic response, and he chuckled.

“Sure.”

He reached into his sleeve and pulled out the long knife that was strapped to his forearm. Mark didn’t even blink. “This is so cool. I love having an assassin friend.”

He held out his hand to poke the blade, and Donghyuck swatted it away, telling him “don’t touch!” but his heart dropped slightly at the word friend. He pushed the feeling away. That’s what they were.  _ Friends. _

Mark, jittery with excitement, jumped out of bed and pulled Donghyuck by the wrist until they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, him still holding the fruit like it was his child. He braced his chin on it. “Can I cut it?”

“Do you know how to?”

The prince hesitated, and Donghyuck poked out his tongue. “Then I’ll handle the knife. Give me Maria.”

“Maria?”

“It’s her name. Lady Maria Angela, duchess of, uh, melon-land.”

Letting out a laugh that could be qualified as a cackle, Mark handed the assassin the watermelon. “Sorry, Maria.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Donghyuck made a quick work of setting the melon down on the floor and slashing it in half, making sure none of the fruit touched the ground. He carefully cut a slice and gave it to Mark, who was almost jumping in anticipation. 

“Wait for me,” the assassin interjected when he noticed Mark bringing the watermelon dangerously close to his mouth. With a pout, he brought the slice down.

Once Donghyuck had his piece, he nodded, and they both bit into it simultaneously. 

“Wow.  _ Sweet _ !” Mark said. It wasn’t long before he was completely stuffing his face and asking for another slice.

Donghyuck chuckled, reaching for the knife. “Calm down, baby.”

Now that he used the little pet name and Mark was again in a good enough mood to react to it, he was, most certainly, teasing. To his satisfaction, the prince turned as red as the fruit he was eating. 

“Don’t call me that,” he whined, but Donghyuck smirked.

“You love it.”

Mark groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “I do.” Before the other boy could say anything, he held out his open palm. “Now stop being a hopeless flirt and give me more watermelon.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask before, but how was your day?” the royal inquired, munching on a piece of fruit.

“It’s fine. You weren’t really in… the shape to ask.” Donghyuck shrugged. “My day was average. I got yelled at for not having stabbed you yet. The usual.”

Mark couldn’t hide his smile. “Well, you’ll have to work on that, hm?”

“Don’t tempt me,” the assassin said with a tip of humour in his voice, twirling the blade dripping with watermelon juice in his hand.

And there was something so casual, so comforting about the scene that made them both want time to freeze, perhaps just for a few hours. Two boys, a prince and an assassin, sitting on the floor at the ungodly hours of the morning, eating watermelon and talking about anything and everything. It was a bit ridiculous, if you thought about it, and very uncommon, but, in that moment, both boys would have wished the night lasted forever.

͟͟͞͞➳

The next night, Mark read to him. The night after, Donghyuck sang for the prince. So on and so forth, it became like their little ritual. They always talked a lot, too. Of everything and nothing and sometimes it was so stupid but they were both almost rolling off the bed from laughing. 

And when Donghyuck would wake up in the mornings, in his cold, uncomfortable bed in the slums, he would smile and think of the prince with the eyes that held the stars. 

But one day, he couldn’t do that because he was pulled out of his light slumber by a hand slamming on his mouth, muffling him.

His eyes flew open, scanning the shadows and spotting two faces overhead. His long, painful assassin training caught up to him and he slid out a tiny blade from his sleeve. Reaching up to stab the arm over him, he twisted away, planning to land on his feet and get away with a swift roll. But when he swung his hand that held the little knife, instead of hitting flesh, it was blocked, like the other figure that wasn’t holding his mouth had predicted his movements and stopped his blow.

“Stop resisting,” the one muffling him said in a low voice. 

It sent a chill raking down his body. He knew that voice. His employer’s best guard. Yes, his employer, who hired him to kill Mark.

Donghyuck froze, and the man tutted. “Good boy.”

The assassin couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but he knew there was an ugly, satisfied smile adorning it.

“Get up,” he whispered in his ear, and Donghyuck couldn’t do anything but obey as the man yanked him upwards. 

He quickly felt the tip of a knife against his neck, and his insides twisted at the feeling. He’d run out of time.

“Now, little assassin boy, you will  _ talk _ .” He hissed the last word, pressing the blade into Donghyuck’s soft skin, almost drawing blood. “Why is my boss’ target  _ still alive _ ?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck replied, his voice small and a bit wheezing. “I’m trying, I swear.”

Suddenly a spot in his neck started burning, and he felt a hot trickle of blood slide down to his collarbone. “You didn’t try hard enough,” the guard declared with a cold laugh. “Your time’s up.”

͟͟͞͞➳

Mark stared out into the darkness, elbows braced on the windowsill. 

Donghyuck was late.

He knew he shouldn’t be too impatient, but there was no sign of the assassin and it was almost an hour past the time he usually came. He sighed, closing his eyes, feeling the cool night wind blowing on his eyelids. 

He waited like that for fifteen more minutes before he clenched his jaw and slowly got up. Head hanging low, he walked back to his bed, a dull ache settled deep in his chest. 

It hurt to think about it, but… the realization was upon him, now. He wasn’t coming. 

Maybe Donghyuck got bored of him, he supposed. Like everyone did. It usually didn’t bother him. He was used to it. But, for some reason, this time… it stung just a bit more. 

He let himself fall backwards, his head hitting the mattress with a muffled thud. 

For a while, there was only him, the silence surrounding him, and the thoughts clouding his head. 

Suddenly, a dull dribbling sound, getting progressively louder, started ringing through the room. He turned his head to look out the window, seeing the raindrops staining the glass. Great. A storm. And now, there was really no chance Donghyuck would come. 

He brought his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, relishing in the peaceful ambience brought on by the rain.

There was only the drumming of droplets on the roof, and… 

He frowned.

There wasn’t only the sound of water dripping down from the skies. There was also a stronger tapping noise, coming from outside, like… like someone was hitting on the window.

He almost jumped out of his bed, carefully stalking to the clouded glass panel, his heart thundering in his ears. His eyes widened when he saw through the window a pair of hands grabbing onto the windowsill, one of them gently drumming its nails against the glass. In a flurry of panic, Mark opened the window and reached his head outside to look down, feeling a few drops of water on his scalp.

His heart dropped.

Dangling from the windowsill, holding on with nothing but his fingers, was Donghyuck. The assassin was drenched and trembling, and Mark knew he was exhausted because he could barely hold his head up. 

The prince grabbed the other boy’s wrists, and, at that, his head snapped up and their eyes met. Mark gasped. Even in the darkness, he could see that the assassin’s face was covered in bruises and cuts. He didn’t know if the water streaming down his face was due to the pouring rain or tears. 

“I got you,” he whispered, and Donghyuck’s lips quivered. At that, Mark reached downwards, grabbing the boy by the forearms and using all the strength he had to pull him up. 

Donghyuck groaned in pain, but, after what seemed like an eternity of pulling and struggling, the prince managed to pass him over the windowsill, tumbling backwards when he let go of his arms. 

It took a fraction of a second for Mark to push himself back up and stumble all the way to the younger, who was prostrate on the ground. He gently cupped his beat up face, forcing the assassin to look at him. His heart clenched at the sight of the blood.

“What happened to you?” the prince asked, his voice cracking. 

Donghyuck tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. “My employer got impatient when he saw you weren’t dead yet.”

Mark gasped and his eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh, no. Oh, this is my fault. Donghyuck, I’m so sorry—”

He was sobbing now, and the other boy reached out a trembling hand to push the hair away from his face. “Markie. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

The prince nodded furiously. “Okay. I— okay. You need help. Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.”

Through his tears, Mark gave him a glare. “You are most definitely not. Where are you hurt?”

Donghyuck hesitated, before mumbling, “My shoulder…”

Mark worriedly passed a hand over his clothed shoulder, and doubted that the dampness of his shirt wasn’t only due to the rain. “I have to remove this,” he said softly, gesturing toward the fabric, earning a nod from the younger. “Do you have a knife?”

Even through the pain, Donghyuck gave him a smirk. “Always. My right ankle.”

Mark nodded and reached into his boot, easily finding the blade. Without hesitation, he started cutting through the fabric of Donghyuck’s shirt, right through the middle, starting by the collar. Once it was cut open enough, he ripped the whole shirt away, and gasped. 

There was blood everywhere, and, even in the flickering light brought by candles, he could make out the shape of a deep gash going through Donghyuck’s shoulder. He gulped.

When the assassin saw Mark wasn’t moving and kept staring at his wound, he looked at him questioningly. “Are you okay?”

The prince shook his head, like he was snapping out of his stupor. “Yeah. Yeah. I can help. I took the obligatory first aid course and read medical books because I was bored. I’m basically theoretically qualified to operate your arm.”

Donghyuck frowned in surprise. “You won’t actually have to operate it though, right?”

Mark shrugged. “Of course not. I’m just saying, if I know how to operate an arm, I can fix a cut on your shoulder. Let me just get some stuff.” He got up and grabbed Donghyuck’s ripped shirt, laying on the floor beside him, before giving it to the assassin. “Press this on the wound to stop the bleeding. And don’t lay on your back, stay on your side if possible. Your shoulder needs to be the highest possible. Once I have a proper cloth to put pressure on it, I’ll make you sit against the wall. I’ll be right back.”

Donghyuck nodded and brought the ruined piece of clothing to his shoulder, wincing at the sting when it came in contact with his wound. 

Mark quickly made his way to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, then took a moment to brace himself on the sink and take a deep breath. He was shaking. 

Pretend as he might to be strong and in control, he was scared.  _ Terrified _ , even. He wasn’t like Donghyuck, and could hardly stomach seeing blood. And he was also worried for the assassin, because, if he kept on losing blood, he could  _ die  _ from it. Mark wasn’t ready to think about that. He couldn’t afford to panic, or to be stressed. He had to keep his thoughts sharp, his mind clear, because this wasn’t about him. This was about Donghyuck.

He nodded, more for himself than anything, then grabbed a few towels from the compartment under the sink and dashed back to the injured assassin.

His heart rose up in his throat when he saw Donghyuck, pale and shivering, struggling to keep pressing the already-soaked shirt over his wound. “Hyuck. Do you think you’ll be able to sit and lean on the wall over there if I help you?”

Donghyuck grimaced in pain, but nodded slowly. 

“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m going to tie this towel around your shoulders so you don’t have to stop the bleeding yourself. It’s going to be tight, but it’ll do. Is that alright?”

Another nod.

Mark kneeled right next to the assassin and draped the cloth over his injury, then slid it under his other shoulder before tying it over his chest. “Can you breathe? Is this too tight?”

Donghyuck mouthed ‘no’ and he sighed in relief. “Okay, let’s sit you up. The wall is right behind you.”

The assassin winced in pain at just the idea, but Mark placed an encouraging hand on his cheek. “You can do this.” 

It took another nod from Donghyuck, and the prince gently slid his hand under his non-injured shoulder and his back and started pulling him up. The groans of pain the other boy let out made him want to break down and cry, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. There was no non-painful way to do this. 

Once Donghyuck was completely up, he leaned on the wall and tilted his head up, letting out a heavy, wheezing breath. 

“Hyuck. Stay with me.” Mark gently tapped his cheek. “I have to make it to the infirmary down the corridor. I’ll bring the nurse. I trust her. Plus, she’s mute, so she can’t tell anyone about you. Do not panic when you see her.” When he saw Donghyuck losing focus a bit, he gripped his jaw and forced him to look into his eyes. “Do you understand? I’m leaving to get the nurse. Do not fall asleep. I know you’re tired, but you  _ cannot  _ sleep. You have to do this for me, okay? Stay awake.”

And with that, Mark pivoted and sprinted toward the door, leaving Donghyuck alone.

The assassin’s head rolled to the side, his eyelids heavy and his head pounding. He couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t feel his legs, his arms. Only the scorching pain in his shoulder, radiating up into his neck. His vision was swimming with black dots, and the only logical thought he could formulate was the awareness that he was going to pass out soon. He was in absolute delirium. He couldn’t see anything, feel anything, except the pain. Oh, it  _ hurt _ . What happened, already? He couldn’t remember. Mark had said something about sleeping, but he couldn’t recall that either. Sleep. Yes, he was so tired… Maybe he could sleep. Just close his eyes for a second… 

A few harsh taps to his cheeks and he was groaning, in pain and in annoyance, at whatever dissipated his drowsiness. 

“Donghyuck!” It was Mark’s voice. He sounded panicked. Donghyuck wondered why. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere. “Donghyuck, wake up, I told you not to sleep!”

Did he? The assassin wasn’t sure. Everything was a blur and he couldn’t remember Mark’s words correctly. 

“The nurse is here,” the prince was saying. “She’s going to help you. But this is going to hurt. Donghyuck,  _ do you hear me? _ ”

The urgency that was in Mark’s voice, making it almost shrill, shook awake the little consciousness Donghyuck had and he nodded slowly, his head feeling heavier than ever.

He’d nodded, but he hadn’t actually processed what Mark had said. So the sharp pain that sliced through his shoulder was a complete surprise, caused by a hand pressing on his wound. He didn’t know whose hand that was. He didn’t know anything. Only the blinding ache that reverberated inside his skull, and went down until his toes. Everywhere. It hurt everywhere. 

He didn’t even have it in him to scream. He was  _ yelling _ , his mouth was open and his face was scrunched up and there were tears streaming down his face, and yet the only sounds he managed to emit were frail whimpers. 

He was unsure for how long exactly he stayed in that state, where there was only pain and nothing else. He supposed after a while that there was just so much agony one could possibly tolerate because slowly, everything started fading. The vague sounds of two concerned voices floating around him, the blurred flashes of his surroundings, and the crippling ache radiating from his shoulder. It was like a heavy fog was crawling up his body, his mind, clouding his senses, leaving in its wake a blissful numbness. And it wasn’t long after that before the entire world faded to nothing.

͟͟͞͞➳

When he hesitantly opened his eyes, his first thought was that he’d died.

Everything he could see was white, bright and cloudy. As his vision slowly adjusted to the sudden light, the ceiling, the sheets around him and the bandages wrapping his whole arm came into focus. He then deduced he was  _ not _ dead, because he was still very much in pain.

His head was pounding, his shoulder still throbbed dully, and his throat felt like literal sandpaper, yet the first thing he did when he regained consciousness was still to ask for Mark, his voice raw and cracked. 

There was a sound of shuffling next to him, and he felt something warm engulf his hand, fingers slipping between his own, and a head of ruffled hair popped into his field of vision.

“You look horrible,” Donghyuck managed, his mouth completely dry.

He wasn’t lying. Mark looked like he hadn’t slept the whole night, which, he realized with a pang of guilt, was probably the case. Aside from the dark bags under his eyes, his skin was drained of colour, and his lower lip was trembling. Though there was probably another reason for that last one, Donghyuck guessed, because a few tears pooled in the prince’s star-filled eyes. 

“Why thank you.” He visibly tried sounding light and playful, but his trembling voice gave away his distress. He sighed shakily. “I was so scared. Hyuck, I was  _ terrified _ , and you stayed like this for three days, and I thought you’d never wake up…”

Donghyuck’s shock must’ve shown in his face, because Mark stopped rambling. 

“Three days?” he croaked out, and the prince nodded slowly. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

Mark lifted his head, like he was looking at someone across the room, and Donghyuck followed, slowly turning his head to see a blue-haired woman wearing a white coat glaring at the prince from where she stood. On the table in front of her was a weird substance that the assassin couldn’t identify.

Mark laughed nervously. “Um, well, Wheein here is looking at me like she wants to kill me, probably because she wants to say she tried getting me to bed, but I just couldn’t sleep. Or leave you, for that matter.”

Wheein, whom Donghyuck guessed was the nurse, nodded, arms crossed, before going back to the yellow, chunky-looking mixture she was working on. 

His eyes went back to Mark’s tired face, and he sighed, reaching up his uninjured arm to cup his face. “Baby, you can’t do this to yourself.”

The older pouted. “Well, I was worried!” 

“Yeah, but I’m okay. You don’t need to worry.” 

With a shrug, Mark nuzzled his cheek in the other boy’s palm. “You know I will, no matter what you say.”

Donghyuck smiled softly. “Right.”

And suddenly Mark’s eyes were serious again, surveying Donghyuck’s injury with what looked like deep concern. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He tried shrugging, but winced. Not a good idea. “Well, it’s pretty simple. The guys that pay me were getting upset because you didn’t quite look dead. And  _ do not, _ ” he started again when he saw the prince shrink away, “say this is your fault, because it is not, and I will never hold you responsible for what happened.”

“Why?” Mark let out, his voice shy. “You got severely hurt. You could have died. And yet you’re here, telling me it’s not my fault and that you aren’t mad at me… Why?”

Donghyuck’s eyes softened. “Because I do not care about those guys. They can cut me up all they want, but they’ll always be scum. But you know who I  _ do  _ care about? I care about a boy who isn’t quick to judge, who can wield a pen better than a sword, and loves watermelon.”

“Well,” Mark started, “that boy must be very lucky to have someone like you to care about him.”

“Yeah, well, that boy is also a haughty prince and he can be  _ so  _ clingy—”

Donghyuck couldn’t finish his sentence, because Mark gently hit him on the shoulder with a laugh and a "stop!", but he instantly regretted his action when the assassin’s face twisted and he let out a pained exclamation.

Mark just stood there, horrified at what he’d done, before Donghyuck’s face fell and he let out a cackle. “It’s not the right shoulder, princeling,” he let out between laughs. 

Said princeling’s cheeks flared, and he shook his head, biting down his grin. “You’re so annoying.” 

The younger smiled up at him, so wide he felt his eyes turning into small crescents, and Mark looked away for a moment, flustered, before meeting his stare again. “I know,” the assassin said, “but you love me.”

He was about to reply, but a loud cough from the other side of the room made him snap his head up to glare at Wheein. The nurse didn’t even look up from her work, rolling her eyes so hard Donghyuck thought her eyeballs would pop out of their sockets. “Fine,” he chuckled. “We’ll stop.”

And then, safe in Mark’s bed, sunlight spilling from the windows, and his chest feeling warm, Donghyuck allowed himself to think that maybe everything would be okay.

͟͟͞͞➳

The following three days went by quickly. 

Donghyuck spent most, if not all, of his time in bed, healing slowly but surely. Mark had to leave for about half of the day, to attend to whatever princely duties he had, which left Donghyuck alone or with the nurse.

Wheein was very nice, and very smart, he’d gathered, but she didn’t communicate much. She didn’t speak at all, which he learned was due to a medical condition, but sometimes she picked up her pencil and wrote her end of the conversation on a notepad. Most of the time, Donghyuck just went on and on about his life as an assassin, receiving an occasional nod in answer. Once, he asked her if it bothered her that he talked so much, and she shook her head, scribbling on a piece of paper that she hated the silence and she was grateful for his voice. It was nice.

“I don’t  _ miss  _ killing people,” he was saying that day. “It’s just that it’s the only thing I’ve known, and now that I’m stuck in bed, I miss being able to move so much.”

A nod.

“How much time until I can get out of bed without my wound splitting open, you think?” he asked, and she turned to him, shrugging before lifting up two fingers. 

“Two weeks?” he asked, trying and failing not to sound horrified, but she shook her head with a small smile. “Two  _ days _ ?”

Another nod, and he almost squealed with joy. “Amazing.” 

A few seconds after he fell silent, the door opened, and Mark barged in, all smiles. “Hello! How are you feeling?”

“Hi, your Majesty,” the assassin snorted, holding out a hand for him to grab. “I am feeling absolutely fantastic, and I can get out of bed in two days!”

At that, Mark’s eyes widened, and as he gushed about how glad he was, Donghyuck gave a small smile to Wheein, who silently slipped out of the room. 

“How was your day?” he asked, and the prince frowned.

“Boring, as usual. I’d much rather be here and spend time with you.”

At that, Donghyuck’s stomach filled with butterflies. It unnerved him how Mark wasn’t an excellent flirt or anything, but just a few words from him and he, a  _ certified  _ flirt, became a flustered mess. 

“What time is it? I’m hungry.”

“Same here,” Donghyuck admitted. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

At that, the prince’s eyes narrowed. “I thought Wheein was watching you.”

“One meal a day is enough for someone who is constantly in bed,” the other laughed, but Mark wasn’t convinced. 

“I’ll go get food from the kitchens. Wait for me!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckled, and Mark laid a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing out of the bedroom. 

They spent their evenings like this, eating, and talking. Often, Mark read to him, and then he’d sing for a bit, and they’d fall asleep holding hands. It was… peaceful. It was warm and lovely and calm and Donghyuck had never felt real happiness in his life, but he supposed this was very close to it. 

The first time they kissed was when Donghyuck managed to walk without Wheein watching his every move, and when he realized he was mostly healed, he started jumping around, laughing. He pulled Mark in for a hug, but miscalculated his head’s trajectory and their faces collided, noses crashing, lips touching for just a second.

It was clumsy more than anything, and Donghyuck stumbled backwards a bit, but suddenly Mark’s hands were on his waist and he held him close. The assassin’s first reflex was to try to laugh it off, but when his stare lifted and he met Mark’s eyes, their faces barely an inch from each other, his breath caught in his throat. The prince himself looked flustered, colour blooming high on his cheeks, but his gaze stayed focused, determined. Like he’d been wanting to do this for a while. Donghyuck’s stomach flipped at the thought. 

They stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, the prince’s arms strong around Donghyuck, before the assassin finally caved and brought their lips together. 

It was soft and it was sweet and it was everything Donghyuck had been waiting for. He brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in Mark’s hair, and the older’s grip on his waist tightened. Before they kissed, Donghyuck’s head had been full of thoughts, anxieties, worries. Now, there was only Mark. Mark’s lips on his, Mark hands gripping his sides, Mark’s scent of pine and peppermint.  _ Mark, Mark, Mark.  _ His name felt like a mantra that he repeated in his head over and over  — because they were finally kissing and somehow everything felt right.

When the prince pulled away, out of breath, and grinned at him, Donghyuck had to physically stop himself from leaning in again. He wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat because he simply didn’t know how to explain the feeling of pure bliss that had taken over him. He looked down, his fingers fiddling with the strands of hair at the base of the other’s neck.

“What?” Mark asked breathily, his face still stretched in a wide smile. 

Donghyuck took a moment to find the right words, before settling with, “This is perfect. You’re perfect.” 

And all it took was a knuckle under the assassin’s chin, lifting his face up, before their lips were slotted between each other again, and they were smiling through the kiss, teeth clanking. And perhaps that, Donghyuck thought, was what happiness felt like. He didn’t have much experience with it, he had to admit, but right now he was pretty damn sure it went by the name of Mark Lee.

͟͟͞͞➳

Good things did not last. 

Good things were created to serve as contrast to the bleakness of the world, then to be shattered like glass. 

And Donghyuck witnessed just that, when his entire world came crashing down without warning. 

The day it happened started with a rainy morning, when the assassin woke up with his arms around Mark and the boy’s face buried in his chest, as usual. They ate breakfast together, talked about trivial things, laughed a lot, kissed a bit. There was really nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to hint at what was about to happen. 

It started at around noon. Mark had left for the day and Donghyuck was laying on the floor, rolling over from time to time, talking about the people he’d killed to an unbothered Wheein. That’s when they heard the clamour of voices coming from outside through the slightly opened window, and they both froze. 

Donghyuck bolted to the window and tried to be as discreet as possible as he poked his head outside, feeling a few drops of rain on his scalp. 

There was a company of guards at the entrance of the mansion, and their leader seemed to be speaking to the house sentinels. The assassin couldn’t hear clearly what they were saying, but when the captain pulled out a piece of paper that seemed to bear an official seal, the sentinels let them in.

Wheein tugged at Donghyuck’s sleeve, and he felt his guts twist at the pure panic in her eyes. Hands shaking, she pulled out her pen and notepad from her pocket and started frantically scribbling before showing Donghyuck what she’d written.

He frowned. “Guards from the _ palace _ ? What are they doing here?” he asked, but only got a shrug and furious shake of the head in answer.

He bit his lower lip, jaw tight as a realization dawned upon him and the nervousness set it. “They can’t see me,” he declared, even if it was obvious, and Wheein nodded. “Where can I hide?”

But she didn’t have time to show him, because the door flew open at that instant, and Donghyuck’s heart stopped, expecting men in military uniform to start filling the room, but he took in a sharp breath of relief when Mark burst in. It was short-lived, though, because the prince’s eyes were wide, his hands were clenched in tight fists, and he looked badly shaken. 

“Donghyuck, they know you’re here.”

It took a few seconds for Mark’s words to register, but when they did, the assassin felt fear, genuine fear, coil up in his gut. “ _ How _ ?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Mark shrugged anyway, reaching out for his wrists. “You need to hide.”

“I can just leave out the window?”

At that, he got a sad shake of the older’s head. “No. They have guards patrolling attentively in the forest. They’re prepared for an… escape attempt.” He tugged at Donghyuck’s wrist. “Come on.”

But he resisted Mark’s pull, shaking his head. “I… They’ll find me anyways. There’s nowhere to hide.” 

Mark visibly gulped, the corner of his eyes shining with tears. “So what are you going to do?”

“Fight my way out.”

Distress flashed on Mark’s face. “You can’t do that, Hyuck, they’re professionally trained soldiers and they’ll hurt you…”

“I’m trained too, Mark,” the assassin tried to protest, but the other wouldn’t have it.

“No. There are, like, ten of them. You are not fighting. You are not hurting yourself.”

Donghyuck sighed, bringing his hands up to tug at his hair in frustration. “Fuck. Okay. I still think the window is a good option. There isn’t ten of them in the woods, that’s for sure.”

With a nervous nod, the prince rubbed his face with his palms. “Okay. I mean. It’s that or… staying here.”

“Right. And the odds might not be good for fleeing, but they’re even lower for not leaving.”

Mark seemed to be shaken awake by the sounds of voices and doors being opened in the corridor. “I’ll go talk to them. Now go.”

He made for the corridor, but Donghyuck stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a last kiss. His eyes were glossed over with tears when he croaked out, “Thank you for bringing me happiness, Mark Lee. I love you. Please don’t forget me.”

The prince was visibly struggling not to break down in sobs. He placed his palm on Donghyuck’s cheek, wiping a single tear. “I love you. I love you so much. I could never forget you.” He took in a shaky breath. “Now  _ leave.  _ You are not getting caught on my watch.”

Tearing away from Donghyuck, Mark dashed into the corridor, heading for the guards. The assassin pivoted toward the exterior, vision blurry with tears. He didn’t waste any time, and, with a small bow of the head toward Wheein, he climbed out the window, not wanting to think about the fact that this could’ve been the last time he saw Mark.

͟͟͞͞➳

He didn’t make it far. 

A few hundred meters into the forest and he had to stop because he was surrounded by eight men armed to the teeth.

He killed two of them before they managed to immobilize him, chaining his hands so tight behind his back that his wrists ached. They dragged him to a nearby road, and no matter how hard he tried to scream and kick and thrash, it was no use. One of the guards, with an ugly, bony face, gave him a smile before he stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth, muffling him, then ordered the others to ‘put him in’. He didn’t know what they meant until he was brutally turned around and the prison wagon was right in front of him. 

He fought back the best he could, but his efforts were rendered useless as they shoved him inside the compartment, locking the door behind him. He let out a scream, muffled by the cloth. Everything hurt. He was pretty sure he had cuts and bruises everywhere from when those pigs literally dragged him on the ground to the pathway, like he was a simple object.

There wasn’t a lot of space inside the prison wagon, and Donghyuck was starting to find air a little bit sparse, so he focused on calming his breathing for a second. His momentary calm was short-lived, though, because suddenly the floor was rumbling, and he understood that they’d started moving.

This was  _ not good _ . They were probably going to the royal palace, where, knowing his record, he would face a very short trial, then beheading. He closed his eyes, fighting the tears that were pooling in them. He wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of who he left behind.

_ Mark _ . The name echoed in his mind, and he thought of the boy with the loveliest voice, the brightest smile and the sparkliest eyes. He would miss him. Even in death, because someone as extraordinary as Mark would definitely leave a trace on him so strong that it would bypass whatever threshold it was that led to the afterlife. He sighed, letting a tear roll down his cheek, feeling a hurricane of emotions all at once.

Sadness, for the prince he’d abandoned, anger, for the goodbye he didn’t get to give, but also a cold sort of acceptance, because he’d known that fate was laying ahead of him since he was a child. 

͟͟͞͞➳

The palace dungeons were horrible.

They were filthy, old and humid, the smell rancid of mold and rust so strong it made Donghyuck’s eyes water. As he shivered, huddled up in a corner of his cell, he mentally cursed the king for having so much money, yet none to spend on a place that so many people lived in. Sure, they were criminals and they’d done terrible things, but they were humans too, and deserved to be treated better than dogs.

He’d been in that place for maybe five hours. He wasn’t sure. He’d lost track of time in the prison wagon. No one had spoken to him since he’d arrived, not even his cell neighbours, which he was grateful for. The guards had stripped him of most of his clothes, stuffed him in a rag they called a tunic, and shoved him inside his cell without a word.

Now, he was just struggling to keep his body warmth, teeth chattering and fingers drained of colour as he thought of his insulated jacket. A sudden ‘“hey you”!’ made his head snap up, and he narrowed his eyes at the guard standing in front of the iron bars holding him in. 

“Someone wants to see you. I’m here to escort you.” 

Donghyuck took a few seconds to react, standing up on unsteady legs and walking to the cell door. “Who?”

The guard scoffed. “Someone important. Just shut up and follow me, scum.”

He unlocked the doors and pulled Donghyuck out, double-checking his chains before he led him up a decrepit staircase, into the lower levels of the palace. Hallway, staircase, another hallway, before they stopped in front of a large wooden door. 

Donghyuck didn’t know what to expect when he stepped inside a room with guards lining the walls, but it definitely wasn’t the king himself, wrapped in a fur coat, a golden crown sitting atop his head. He had to do a double take, shake his head a bit to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. What in the  _ world  _ did the king want with him?

He gave him a calculating look, and the assassin’s heart rose up in his throat. His son looked so much like him.

“Donghyuck Lee,” the monarch started in a booming voice, and the boy decided he hated him. He had a paper in his hand, a list, and he was looking at it with a little mocking smile. “Wanted in my kingdom for theft, trespassing, and a shocking number of seventy eight first-degree murders, and that’s only the ones that have been proven to be connected to you. You are quite a prodigy, boy.”

“I’m not sure prodigy is the right term for a criminal, sir,” he spat through clenched teeth.

The king raised a questioning brow. “Oh? Trying to play virtuous now, are we?”

“No, sir.”

“Your Majesty,” he corrected, smiling condescendingly, like he thought Donghyuck was stupid. “It is  _ Majesty _ to you.”

“Okay, Your Majesty,” the assassin said, a muscle feathering under his jaw. 

“You might be wondering why I wanted to speak to you personally,” he drawled.

_ Yes, get on with it _ , he wanted to say, but he remained quiet.

“You are aware of the treatment we give murderers?” the king inquired with a smile. “That’s right. The guillotine. Now, that would be where you were headed, if I hadn’t found a use for your… particular capacities.” He paused, relishing in the anticipation that was clear as day on the assassin's face. “I am in need of a… helper who will do jobs that I can’t take care of myself for me.”

Donghyuck sucked in a breath. What was he saying?

“That would include…  _ silencing _ the people that are a threat to me, my throne or my family.”

“What? What’s my role in this, then?”

The king chuckled slowly. “Oh, you’re a bit slower than I thought. I want you to kill people for me. Take out my targets.”

The assassin blinked. Was the king offering him a  _ job?  _ This could not be real.

“Of course,” the monarch started again, “there are conditions to this. I-- do not interrupt me with stupid questions, boy, my patience for criminals is limited. A source has informed me that, by some strange, strange circumstances, you are…  _ close  _ to my son.”

At that, Donghyuck was pretty sure he stopped breathing. How did he know? What exactly did he know? His mind was racing but he kept his face blank, because the king wasn’t done, and he knew he wasn’t going to like what was going to be said.

“The conditions for this job I am generously offering you are simple. Firstly, you take out who I tell you to. No questions, no resistance, nothing. You do what you are told and what you are told only. Secondly, you cannot tell  _ anyone _ what your job is, who you work for, who your targets are. That information will be classified, and only a select few will know about my personal hitman. And lastly, directly related to the second condition…” He took a breath and gave Donghyuck a cruel smile. “You will cease all contact with my second son, Mark Lee.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“You heard me. To him, like everyone, you’ll be dead. Beheaded at the gallows like criminal scum is supposed to be. You cannot speak to him, you cannot write to him, you cannot let him know of your whole existence. And--”

Donghyuck didn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. Cut off Mark. Have him think he was dead. He snapped out of his stupor, interrupting the king’s monologue.

“What if I refuse?” 

The king looked at him, smirking, cocking his head to the side like a predator sizing up his prey. “Then it is the gallows for you, my boy.”

Not so long ago, the answer would’ve been obvious. Life or death. White or black. But things were different. Live and never speak to Mark again. Being able to see him but having to hide. Having the prince think he’d been executed. Or, well… dying. It was shades of gray, and there honestly was no option that would’ve been beneficial. So it was with a heavy heart and a feeling of ash in his mouth that Donghyuck declared his decision. 

“I’ll do it. I’ll be your champion.”

  
  


͟͟͞͞➳

Mark had not stopped crying.

They’d taken Donghyuck, and he was going to be executed.

He’d shoved the guards that came to get him and, without thinking, hopped on one of their horses and dashed towards the palace, tears streaming down his face as he rode through the light rain. 

It took him two hours to get there, and he didn’t even leave his mount at the stables, or greet the servants that flocked towards him when he entered the castle. He made his way to the underground dungeons at a running pace. Guards tried to stop him, but he ignored them, speeding up to get to Donghyuck.

He didn’t have to get far. They put him in a cell in one of the upper levels, and Mark nearly sank to his knees when he saw him, huddled up in a corner. The prince crashed onto the bars separating them and let out a choked sob. “Donghyuck.”

The assassin raised a dirty, tearstained face toward the cell door, and Mark watched as his beautiful brown eyes widened and filled with tears. “You’re here,” Donghyuck whispered in a broken voice before literally throwing himself to Mark.

The prince reached out and their hands clasped tightly between the bars, both of them near wailing. “Of course I came. I rode all the way here because I don’t want them to take you from me  — ”

Donghyuck sniffled and brought up a hand to wipe at Mark’s tears. “Please don’t cry,” he breathed. “It makes me sad to see you cry, and we have to make the most of the time we have left…”

“Don’t say that!” Mark almost yelled, his voice breaking. “You won’t… They won’t… I won’t  _ let them _ .”

With a sad smile, Donghyuck shook his head, and Mark felt his heart shatter. “There’s nothing you can do. I’m sorry.”

And it  _ hurt _ , the thought that he could do nothing to save him. “When?” he managed to choke out.

“Tomorrow. When the clock strikes noon.”

At that, Mark let out a wail. “No. No, no, no, no, no. I’m not saying goodbye to you. I’m not seeing you die.”

And Donghyuck was crying too, but he kept on wiping at the older’s tears, like he thought it was  _ possible _ for him to stop crying right now, when he’d just learned the boy he loved was getting  _ killed  _ the next day. “You have to,” the assassin said softly. “But you don’t have to see me die. We can say our goodbyes now. Proper goodbyes. Do you want to do that?”

And even though Mark did not want to say goodbye  _ at all _ , he nodded as he kept crying, because he knew if Donghyuck was gone and he’d refused to do it, he would never forgive himself. His grip on Donghyuck’s fingers tightened so much that they became white, but he didn’t care, and the assassin didn’t seem to either.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Donghyuck said, inhaling deeply then staring deep into Mark’s eyes. “Mark Lee. I am so fucking glad I met you. You are my sun, my moon and my stars. You lit up my life when everything was dark. You made it beautiful. I was supposed to kill you, for fuck’s sake, and I ended up falling head over heels for you, because how could I not? You are the sweetest, kindest, most genuine person I have ever met. You are fantastic and I love you so much. Thank you for making my life brighter. Thank you for making me discover what happiness means, even if it was only for a short while. I  — I love you forever.”

Mark’s chest felt like it was cracking and breaking, and he was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He tried, though, he made an effort to inhale and exhale normally, because he had things to say to Donghyuck, he had so much to tell, so much to thank him for before he was gone forever, and he couldn’t speak for a few seconds because it was all trying to come out at once. 

“Donghyuck Lee. The love of my life.” His voice broke, and fresh tears rolled down his face. “You are so, so incredible and you are the most important part of my life. I would go to the end of the universe for you. I would do anything for you. You have a heart of gold and I am so lucky to have crossed paths with you. I will never forget you. I will never forget the way you make me feel. I will never forget the absolutely infinite love I have for you. You are so special and I will cherish you and the memories we made forever. I love you, I love you, I love you. I  — ”

“Hey, you! Out of here!” someone snapped from behind him, probably a guard.

Mark kept eye contact with Donghyuck, their hands still clasped together, even as the prison sentinel realized he wasn’t moving and came to pull him away. Mark held on, like he would hold on for dear life, but the guard was too strong, and… and he had to let go.

His heart broke and he cried out as he grasped at nothing but thin air.

He fought against the man taking him away from his love, his only love, but it was pointless and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing, as he was dragged around the corner and as he lost Donghyuck forever.

͟͟͞͞➳

Donghyuck felt completely empty.

Where there was a burning pain in his chest a few minutes ago, there was now a gaping hole of nothingness.

He’d left Mark. He’d abandoned him. And, worst of all, he’d lied to him.

A day from now, the prince would think he died. Move on. Live his life. And Donghyuck would have to watch from the shadows, as the love of his life slowly forgot him.  _ No _ , he corrected himself. Mark would not forget him. But one day he would be done grieving, and he would find someone new.

That thought hurt, though not because he was jealous. Mark deserved to be loved, gosh, Mark deserved the whole entire world at his feet. It hurt because Donghyuck was not able to provide that love to him. He wasn’t good enough for the prince, and now his punishment would be to see Mark walking around, hurting, and not being able to do anything about it.

He didn’t regret his choice, though. That alone made him feel guilty, but he could not bring himself to wish for a noble death over a life of hiding. It wasn’t his fault. He’d been raised that way. Survive, no matter the cost. 

At that, his years of training came back to him like a flood breaking through a dam, and with them, a question. What happened? He shook his head, like he was trying to clear up a fog inside it. Before, he’d been a ruthless, cold, level-headed assassin, who was good at his job and even better at surviving. But before  _ what _ ?  _ What happened _ that changed him? How did he get into this mess?

The answer was obvious. It was right there, in front of him, and now that he really had nothing to lose anymore, he had no choice but to face it.  _ Mark  _ happened.

He met Mark, and got sloppy. His edges softened. He regretted it now.

_ Mark. _ The prince would be a problem. Donghyuck clenched his jaw. He would have to go back in time. Back to when he was a heartless assassin, the only thing occupying his thoughts being his next target. He would have to forget Mark, rebuild his walls. He had no choice.

It was a question of life or death. He could not afford to have feelings again. He’d ignored them, bottled them up his whole life. It wasn’t any different now. 

His heart ached, but his mind was made. No more feelings, no more caring. Assassin Donghyuck was back, and he honestly didn’t know why he’d ever left. 

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. And as he exhaled, he let go of Mark.

Survive, no matter the cost. Even if said cost was the love of his life.

͟͟͞͞➳

The morning following the mess in the dungeons, Mark didn’t get out of bed.

He stared at the ceiling, hearing a clock ticking, feeling absolutely empty.

He’d went to his father the night before. Screamed, cried, begged for Donghyuck to be forgiven. 

It hadn’t worked.

He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. 

Just laid in bed, unmoving, and waited for the clock to chime noon and announce the inevitable.

Twelve bells, and the light of his life would be snuffed out. Just like that.

To Mark, however, it felt like Donghyuck was already gone. There was just this gaping tear in his chest where the assassin used to be, like a black hole that pulled everything in. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. While earlier it was loud inside his mind, with cries and screams of protest, now it was just deadly quiet. 

The clock chimed once, and he knew it was time. 

His heart clenched and closed his eyes. Two. Three. 

The boy who loved fairy tales and legends even though he couldn’t read them.

Silent tears streamed down his face. Four. Five. Six. 

The boy who sang like he was born from music itself.

He bit his lip so hard he drew blood, his heart twisting and ripping in his chest. Seven. Eight. Nine. 

The boy who looked at the corrupted world and still saw good.

Ten. The boy who glowed like the sun itself.

Eleven. The assassin with a big heart. 

Twelve. The boy whose smile lit up the world. The love of his life. His soulmate.

Mark opened his eyes as the sound of the last bell reverberated through the room.

That was it. Donghyuck was gone.

He stared at the ceiling without seeing it, eyes glassy, picturing Donghyuck’s face, his smile, letting the tears flow freely once again. “Forever,” he whispered, his voice broken. 

“I am yours. Forever.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wheew, this was a JOURNEY! i have been working on this for what seems like so long (a little over three months, so, yeah, it has been a while :]) and i am so excited to finally share it! thank you for reading, i hope you liked it :)
> 
> my cc: https://curiouscat.me/xuxisquish  
> my twt: https://twitter.com/xuxisquish  
> (yes i am still a beginner and i cannot embed links hahahaha)


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